Kaigi
by Enoko
Summary: AU She was nothing more than a breeder to them. Nothing more. Or so would they have wanted it to be. Rated M for adult situations and violence. R&R please. ItaHinaHidan
1. Chapter 1

**This is my totally first fic ever! I am not English, so I am asking for your guys to be indulgent with me! I am sorry if the prologue is not long enough but I am very optimist about the fact that the upcoming chapters will be longer and more satisfying. I would greatly appreciate for your guys to review!**

::Prologue ::

The pestilential odor lingering in the air made her even more nauseous than the previous days. It was quite something to see your friends, your superiors being taken by force in front of your eyes, when your enchained hands couldn't do anything to help nor to shield your view, and then having to breathe in the disgusting smell of rape, blood, sweat and sex. It was pain, cruelty, sadism.

She bowed her head to vomit some more. She didn't remember the last time she had succeeded in retaining food since she was bound to the cold, rocky walls. Nothing else could be expected from such a fragile person as she was than to already lose her mind, when Yūhi Kurenai, Inuzuka Hana or Yamanaka Ino were restraining sobs of pain when guardians came to visit them. She couldn't realize the luck she had for not having given in to Kiba. She couldn't grasp the importance of what she had intact. She was unaware of what not only her talents and status, but her body as well, meant.

Her releases streamed down her chin, in a repulsive ooze. She gave the impression of being deeply sick which had made her jailer call for a doctor that at the same time had verified a few things on other parts of her body. His diagnostic had been more than satisfying. Not only had the slave driver recuperated a Hyūga maiden, but the lass was a pure virgin, a real godsend. She would most probably be sold to Kumogakure if they had the amount of money he required for her.

The barred gate glided to its left in a horrible screech, permitting to an enormous man to enter and direct himself right to a minuscule, fever-burning young woman, her head tilted to the side, traces of saliva and regurgitated food adorning the area around blood-red, pulp, minute lips. Long strands of glossy black hair were the only clothing she had to camouflage her womanly curves. A shiver, as if her lidded orbs have been wide open to notice the man indelicately tugging at her chains, crossed her spine.

"Hey, slut, wake up."

A harsh punch to her shoulder made her eyelids slowly open up, revealing chaste, pupil-less, milky eyes, blurred by never-ending tears.

"Stand up, slut!"

She had become quite accustomed to those diminishing words that she didn't pay more attention to them than to her name being uttered. Not that it matter. Nothing mattered anymore since all those she had loved had been killed or raped in front of her eyes. Only she remained physically untouched, only she, alone like she always had been.

Like a chiffon doll, she remained limp when dragged on the filthy ground like a dog by the chains linking her arms to her guard. It was with great difficulty that she stood up on her numb legs and followed the man that hadn't stopped pulling on her metallic leashes.

She maybe should have turned around to take a last glimpse at her friends and masters, yet didn't. She could not do anything for them as she wasn't even able to care for herself.

Her naked and filthy form shuddered at the glacial drafts caressing her like human hands. It was a real hell to stroll so exposed to the lustful stares of men, guardians or prisoners. It was pain to hear them whisper disgusting words to her when she would pass by them. It was cruelty for them to outstretch a hand and grab a hip through barred gates. It was sadism for her guardian to let his own desire so visible to her unsullied sight.

She was nothing but a toy, and was bowing with submission to that new reality as she had to her weakness.

Each one of her steps was more excruciating than the previous, each one of her breaths hitched in her throat with panicked anticipation. She did not want to know what would happen, yet was preparing herself, body and mind, to the worst possible outcomes.

It was with quite some surprise that she was introduced into the slave drivers personal office.

His piercing little eyes were the first thing to welcome her into the dim room. An old woman by his side was examining her with more interest than all those men had, not bothering to greet her guardian.

"Here's the slut, Kyōgu-sama."

"Good, good. You can go now, Hisha."

The man that had leaded her went away without any ceremony, leaving her behind, uncertain if she had to be relieved or alarmed.

The old woman gave her a reassuring smile.

"She is the one our customer has asked for, Kyōgu."

"I don't know, oka-san. Kumo's delegation has still to arrive. Their price might compete with his …"

"Don't be ridiculous, Kyōgu. You would not want such a man as he is to cause any problems to us, would you?"

"Anyways, he only wants to use her as a maid, not like a prototype or like a prostitute. I still think that with all her talents for music and dance, we could at least sell her to a wealthy okiya. She would without any doubt become a great oiran, maybe even the greatest. Look at her, oka-san! It had taken all my implication to restrain my men not to taint her …"

"What have I done to have such a stupid son?! You truly want to attract all the attention on you, don't you? And what would you do with the wrath of a man such as he is and all his organization on your back? Don't be stupid, and obey your old mama!"

"But …"

"No but!"

Those two were talking about her as if she wasn't present. It was strange because they were really giving her the impression of being nothing but a ghost, an immaterial being floating in the space.

A loud knock on the office's door interrupted their quarrel and without even waiting for the authorization to penetrate the room, a silver-haired man stormed in, dressed in a heavy black cloak which's wide neck covered half of his face.

"Where is she?" was the only thing he said as greeting.

"Ah, Hidan-sama! You came! I thought Pein-sama would be the one to present himself!"

"That motherfucker has better things to do. So, old piece of crap, where is the Hyūga bitch?"

The old lady, even if that newcomer couldn't be less polite, kept her serene smile on her features under the lass's horror.

"Just behind you, Hidan-sama"

In a violent movement, he was facing her, his intense magenta eyes stabbing her right through the heart.

He was so near of her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She noticed an arrow of surprise traverse his orbs, his lips twitching in the corners of his sensual mouth.

His body was almost touching hers. He was inspecting her from head to toe, his stare remaining for a longer time on her exposed breast only covered by a faint veil of somber hair and her womanhood bared to his assessment.

She could sense his steady breath stroking her forehead.

She was completely subjugated by his odd orbs, but who was she to judge which eyes were peculiar?

All her fear had disappeared as had her surroundings, only for their silhouettes to stay behind. There was something in him she had felt, something stirring that had anesthetized her. This little something had left him the right to pass a leather gloved hand through her silken strands without her waking up from what seemed to be a trance. She did not discern the ache of his hand fisting in her hair and her head being pulled back, her jaw slacked, her mouth falling open for the amber liquid detained in a bottle his other hand brought to her mouth to be liberated on her tongue and swallowed right away by her throat.

"I am taking her" were the only words she perceived before darkness and deadness engulfed her in their cavernous intestines.


	2. Chapter 2

::chapter 1 ::

They maybe had expected for her to be frightened when unlocking her lids and displaying those pupil-less orbs of hers to the view of all. She wasn't though. Each one of them had known a lot of women, kunoichis and commoners, yet none of them had been so … unperturbed when confronted to the unknown. It was as if she was dead.

When finally awoken, her body started to be crossed by faint tremors, her eyes indifferently and slowly turning around to grasp the faces of the people that were examining her. At first sight, they were ten, each one of them more peculiar than the previous. Nine dangerous looking men, all more captivating one than the other, their cold eyes harbouring dark secrets in their souls. And one woman, beautiful like a black rose, delicate as a carnivorous plant.

All ten of them tilted above her exposed form, muttering words she did not perceive, commenting what she could not distinguish, appearing to her like messengers from another world. She would have wanted to push herself up in a sitting position, yet couldn't. It was as if the body she inhabited was not connected to her brain. Quite aware of her weakness subdued to their greatness, she preferred to conceal her deranging view and drift away in what should have been memories. However, even her poor attempt in escaping reality proved to be unsuccessful. She had no memories. She had names, events but those were not true memories, only old data that would be replaced by new with the passage of time.

Even if her breathing had remained harmonious and steady, coughs appearing from the abysses of her body disturbed her perfect silence.

Her back arched, each one of her vertebras cracking with strain, elevating her trunk trembling with convulsions. Her half-closed eyes became at once completely visible to the people encircling her now unstable being.

The power she was putting in each hiss of blood leaking down her left cheek and smearing her filthy white flesh with its crimson colour was astonishing these people she didn't have the pleasure to be introduced to.

A young, flaxen-haired man stepped away at the sight of that heavy liquid escaping her lips. Horror, the one only killers could be struck by when noticing deeds they had not accomplished by their own hands, evident on his androgynous features, he asked in an genderless voice what was happening to the 'thing', as he had put it.

Two men detached themselves of the group by kneeling on each of her sides, one beautiful like could be, rusty strands caressing with great delicacy a flesh as pure as snow, and the other more captivating than his companions, a wonderful being, his flesh tinted in white and black, his eyes as deep as an ocean of amber, only exposed by the strong leaves of an enormous Venus flytrap engulfing his being.

She felt cold fingers tracing her neckline, when her silhouette still hadn't rejected all the blood drowning her lungs, a voice speaking out loud without her being capable of perceiving a word of what was said because all her attention was turned to that phenomenon in white and black whose orbs wouldn't leave hers in peace, drowning her spirit in a sort of reassuring mist.

Before she could turn her head to see what was being done to her by the hand of the red-haired man, she felt a painful sting, whilst something cold and heavy was injected inside of her system. Now battling for her eyes to remain opened, she little by little was losing her consciousness again. Yet before her lids definitely swallowed her orbs, she observed a color of magenta lingering on a white surface, and heard quite well the words pronounced by a man's voice, as if it wasn't present with them in the room.

"Konan, bring her to an onsen and bath her, she is filthy. Sasori, Zetsu, stay with me. As for the others, go."

°°

Through his long eyelashes, pools of russet traversed by amber lights examined the hologram of his master with the same indifference the woman had displayed when discovering them. His lips twitched of annoyance, how to explain something as complicated to such a narrow-minded man? His own aid in this project did not seize completely the effects of the manipulation they were planning. For ignorant people as his companions were, there was nothing more than building an empire of power in his schemes, yet there was so much more.

"Sasori, I am tired of granting all your little fantasies. You have already killed two Hyūga and wasted the money of the organization. I am not going to open the saves for you again."

It was with a sigh that the rust-haired man who must have been that Sasori responded to his superior. How could somebody even think about money when the world was proposed to be laid to his feet?!

"As said before sōsui-sama, the two other Hyūga were only experiences. We have used the Bunke man to study the compatibility of Hyūga and Uchiha and Hidan's genes and the little Sōke woman to see how resistant her people are. It is predictable that after being starved, beaten and cut, you would lose your life. Now that we have all the most important information concerning the physiognomy and physical reactions of the Hyūga body, we will not need any other Hyūga, that is of course if she is judged satisfactory."

He was trying to do his best to make it as simple as possible, yet could already sense the stupidity of his leader taking the advantage. A snort as arrogant as could be made him turn his head in a swift, aggressive movement. His bicoloured visage concealed in the leaves of his Venus flytrap, Zetsu, his aid, had followed the interaction between the two men with the amusement only an outsider could subject to.

Sasori's delicate, young features hardened at the little respect his visions were being given. He was a scientist, an artist of the body. If there ever was a person on this world that could have accomplished miracles such as the one he was planning, it was him and only him.

"I hope she will be satisfactory, because Kakuzu is becoming very alarmed by the disappearance of the money. As for your project, how are you planning its development?"

Hearing the shuffle of the leaves detaching one from the other, the rust-haired did not respond, leaving his companion the pleasure to expose their plan.

Zetsu, his two sides in perfect harmony, one thing that did not happen often, almost yelled in bliss. He seemed to appreciate to expose.

"Phase one; we are going to lower her natural defences in four steps, first of all, we are going to starve her for a few days, then some natural poison of my concoction will be injected into her nervous system during two days, step four will be to make her eat and throw up just to keep her alive and tire her organs, and finally, Sasori-san will infuse some chemical poison to lessen the impact of her corpuscles. Phase two will take place three months after the first infusion of the chemical poison. We are going to implant rods and cones coming directly from Itachi's retina right into her eye. Of course, even if the goal of the manipulation is for her body to produce those same cells, we are not expecting for her Byakugan to be engulfed by the Sharingan. Phase three will follow right away. Once her eyes are going to accept and produce those same cells as if they were hers from the beginning, we are going to activate them with chemical and physical stimuli. Once that will occur … we are going to make her mate with Uchiha Itachi until she becomes pregnant. Can you imagine, sōsui-sama? We are finally going to produce that Byaringan Konohagakure has dreamed about! The final phase."

There was a sick gleam in Zetsu's amber eyes that reverberated through all the other souls present in that very space at that same time.

"Yes, very interesting indeed, however, why not attempt an artificial insemination? We do not have any guarantee that Itachi will accept to collaborate."

A little chuckle escaped Sasori's throat, puzzling the two men by his side. They were so stupid. It was acceptable from a being like Zetsu, who was only half-human, not to understand a man's psychology, however, Pein was being more disappointing.

"Sōsui-sama, Itachi is a man, men have certain needs, I am sure you are aware of that. As for artificial insemination, it is out of question. We desire a perfect killing machine. Children that are born unnaturally are proven to be weak and easily succumb to little diseases such as flu and bronchitis."

Zetsu only nodded, confirming his partner's words. The hologram with the sigh couldn't but agree.

"Very well, then. You both have my permission to carry on … Just try to keep her alive … She was the most expensive one.

°°

It was agreeable to feel those circular movements on her back and the water flowing delicately between her limbs. If her eyes were wide-open, she couldn't move her body with her own will. The drug they had given her still had a very powerful effect on her silhouette, most probably because of the lack of nutrients in her blood.

"You are so filthy."

For the first time, the holder of the form her back was leaning on has spoken. It had been with a delicate, calm voice. A woman's voice. Her head posed on a white shoulder desperately tried to turn to captivate the image of that person in her pupil, yet couldn't do anything but allowing her orbs to turn frenetically to all sides. The only thing she could see was the fragile curve of that unknown woman's jaw.

Fine hands travelled down her spine, gently rubbing the filth of her own porcelain skin. She loved that feeling of unfamiliar caresses. She was still a child in a lot of ways and did not yet grasp the sensations coursing down all her members in the form of delicious shivers.

The soft hand went from her back to stroke her hair, long fingers pulling gracefully at her strands. Without her even noticing, those foreigner's limbs passed down her shoulders in a feather touch, leaving goose bumps all over her ribs.

"You seem cleaner to me now."

It was with frustration that her body was peeled of the stranger's smooth skin. It reminded her of something she had lived a long time ago. Those touches made her recall her mother's, before she died of course. They had the same cold indifference encaged in their nails. The same way of fondling her shoulders when not wanting to take care of her. She remembered quite well the way her mother would always take her in her arms to bring her in her room and kiss her goodnight with that hypocrite smile, when the next morning she would cut her with hate. That other woman, the one she didn't know was the same.

She felt her body being lifted from the comforting movement of little waves of hot water hitting the walls of her body. It was strange to think that somebody that must have been as tall as she was could raise her with a minimum of effort.

New quivers came to replace the goose bumps.

Before she could say anything, other hands she did not recognize, rougher and clumsier came to her flesh.

Being laid down on the hard ground beside the onsen, her head turned permitting her eyes to seize the image of an older woman drying her limbs with a towel.

"The poor thing. So how did this all happen?"

This voice was not the one she had heard while in the water. However, it did not disappear. Just after the appearance of that new tone, it came, cold and bitter.

"She is born blind but her paralysis is the consequence of a violent fall when she was three."

"Oh, dear, she truly has no luck. And you are a saint to take care of herself that way."

"Give me the yukata."

The older woman made an abrupt movement that introduced sheer panic into her eyes. She wanted to shield her form, as if spanks were to be expected.

Nevertheless, it was with surprise that she felt her skin being imprisoned in some rough, cheap cotton.

Her head dropping back uncovered her orbs for the violent bite of the sun rays. It was so strange to be left to the good-will of strangers. Yet, she would have to get used to it. Because that was the only thing she could count on. There always would be someone to take care of her, in the good or bad meaning.


	3. Chapter 3

**sigh Finally an update. You guys must hate my guts****, right? You cannot imagine how sorry I am for not having updated sooner. I am just overflowing with work. But that is no excuse for making you wait.**

**And not only am I making you wait for months for an update, but I am not even good enough in English to manage to write something with less than 100 mistakes. I have the feeling I am not respecting all those people that review and those that have put this story in their alerts because my story is so lame compared to your encouraging words and the support you are giving me. Therefore, as I want this to be worthy of all my readers, I would like to know if there wouldn't be somebody interested in becoming my **_**beta reader**_**. I do understand if nobody would like to. So much work to do in this life, but if ever anybody is interested, you would have my complete and never-ending gratitude. As well, if you have **_**any ideas as to how I could make the action evolve**_**, they would be welcomed, I am feeling the reader's block that is coming to invade me. **

**So before I forget, **_**I would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year**_**. Thank you for all your reviews, you are all great, and please if ever you feel like it leave some more reviews.**

::Chapter 2 ::

Plick Plock Plick Plock

Those never-ending droplets of cold water leaking from the ceiling would fall on the delicate skin of her neck on a regular rhythm without her being able to scatter away from it.

For now days, if not weeks, had her body stopped obeying her. Her lungs could barely admit in their cavernous walls the oxygen that became her only nutriment in this hellhole.

Most probably was the liquid injected in her system every day guilty of her state. A poison was cursing through her veins, poisoning her body and mind with cold darkness.

Every morning would the amber-eyed, bicoloured creature come to visit the cave her cadaver-in-becoming inhabited, a syringe shinning from the reddish fluid it contained in his hand.

With sheer softness, it would kneel by her unmoving body, uncovering her left breast by a delicate caress on the rough fabric of her clothing. As if scared of leaving a deed unfinished, he would always push the material of her yukata passed her shoulder, exposing even more the porcelain-dyed flesh.

His cold fingers would gracefully seize the mound of pulsing, hot skin without her even being able to shrug off that hand that was violating her intimacy as she had experienced not so long ago, in her previous prison. Not long after that gesture would he bring the instrument of horror to her flesh, making the needle bite like a rabid dog her beating heart, injecting without any glint of pity in its lifeless pupil the cursed venom. The horrid pain that would invade her almost inert body would bring no softness of pity to the strict line of his mouth.

His interest for her feelings and emotions was minim to the point that he would often forget to dress her up once again, leaving her exposed side to the glacial breeze crossing the rocky walls of her new cage.

He would prefer to leave her behind and go back to the mysterious activities those beings behind the metallic door of her prison practiced.

Going away to offer the poison enough time to take effect without disturbance, to destroy her nervous system little by little with its deadly course.

Enough time for her to remember painfully.

Or to slumber in a coma filled with sorrow.

°°

"Hyūga."

She opened her eyes, only part of her body still permitted to move, yet only if a straining quantity of energy was employed. Once her pupil-less orbs of silver were uncovered by the heavy veil of strong, black eye-lashes, she could examine a slim silhouette towering her laying body and staring directly down on her face.

It was the woman.

The only being that would come. Not out of obligation, more out of curiosity, maybe out of pity. But she would come.

"There are drops of water falling on you."

That voice, the delicate whisper of a butterfly's wings spread to take its flight, could keep the attention of her hazy spirit despite its low tone, making her dying heart race in her poisoned breast. There was something so familiar in that intonation, something known to the little Hyūga woman.

She couldn't really find a reason to it, nevertheless those blue strands of hair maintained by an origami made flower, artificial yet more natural and real to her than the petals of a blossoming rose, would bring back memories of the compound's beautiful gardens and of her own little stalks of lavender.

The name of that being coming the nearest to a friend in that cave of hell she couldn't escape she knew. The first thing, the first and only truth revealed to her. Konan.

Konan, kneeling by the petite woman's side as the other creature would, touched with warm, heavy hands the red spot that had formed itself on her neck by the constant fall if water on the same place.

She sighed.

"I will move you."

Her succinct sentences would never be useless as they would announce actions to come or facts to notice. She had no expression of tenderness whatsoever. Yet, every word uttered would acknowledge to the being addressed a certain intelligence and comprehension, it would recognize its humanity.

Once those words said, the Hyūga knew herself being moved to the darker sides of her 'dwelling', further away from the iron gate to her hole. It was somewhat odd to imagine a woman such as Konan, not much taller and certainly not heavier than her charge, bending down to the young woman and transporting her with ease in her arms to whatever destination was chosen.

Once installed again by the Hyūga's side, her eyes, seemingly bored as always, would wander again on the little person's features.

"I should bring some fabric to decently set you up. Sleeping on rocks for someone not accustomed to it must be quite uncomfortable."

She did not say those paroles with mockery, nor with any sentiment related to compassion. As an automat programmed to pronounce words of proprieties, she would let those words fly from her pulp lips as an announcement of the upcoming events, as meaningless as they were.

"You feel ill."

It was not a question, nor really an affirmation. Her eyes, as blue as a northern sea, locked with ponds of melted silver.

At once, her expression changed. Not sufficiently enough to be noticed of course, shinobis do not display feelings, yet just enough for the particles crossing the air to become heavier. Her own weakness even if perceived by nobody else than her scratched her pride.

She could sense the burn of rage in her body, enflaming her lungs.

Konan just stood up, prepared to leave behind that hostile, silent creature making her come back everyday, nonetheless rejecting her presence without a word said.

"I will let you rest."

Always only voicing those words. She knew very well how it was to be closed in darkness, to be alone without a goal to fulfill. Without even that instinctive impulse the human being had to survive. All those things present in the pale orbs of that dying being, she had undergone them as well. And yet, instead of leaving the poor Hyūga to her suffering, she would stab her over and over with meaningless words and actions.

Why was she playing the act of the sadist, when she never had cared for anybody, never hurt nor nurtured anybody?

Aware of the dangerousness of her penchant for the little Hyūga woman, she did not understand her gamble by letting her interest lead her deeds. The only thing that might have been escaping her vivid mind would have been that doll game she was stuck in, a sick mind's puppet play.

Elegantly turning around, her jaw contracted in a spasm she would camouflage for nobody to see, Konan did not bid the Hyūga goodbye as it was her habit. She just went away, the delicate sound of her steps fading in the darkness of the rocky walls.

The Hyūga girl, that ghastly feeling of the cold, noxious substance flowing through her veins, let the sleep menacing her consciousness win over her will and she drifted away in a coma, only rampart against a world that wanted nothing but evil to fall upon her.

°°

When she was a child, she would often run off. Even if she was most probably the most frightened little thing there was to be seen, she would just escape her caretakers, coursing as fast her little feet permitted it. Eventually, when her father's beatings became more gruesome as she turned older, she gave up. However until then, the repulsion that she held for her residence was so powerful that she would kick and bite, and sometimes even scream when her servants would bring her back to her mother after a walk in the village. Yet nothing of those days remained, nobody remembered her stubbornness or her guts. Once they were done with her, nothing stayed behind but constant fright, obedience, and a broken spirit.

On the other hand, when she still was a bundle of energy, she would wait for her servants to let her down from their arms to just let her little feet make her discover new places and maybe somewhere she could find a loving family just for her. When only two years and two weeks old, the snow twirling around her, she attempted her first getaway, that by the way had been a sheer failure. With that occult power little children have to sense when the best time has come to disappear, she would let go of the tail of her wet-nurse's yukata, and with insecure little baby steps she would just disappear, and nobody would be able to do anything against it. Because she was like water, too fluid, too free to be truly chained up. And so it stayed till she died.

At that young age, her first flee appearing like a true success, she found herself in areas she would have never set foot in. The child she was would look up at high dwellings protected by strong gates, would bypass long legs of people that did not sense the little sparkles of chakra escaping the tips of her chubby fingers.

Her curiosity would bring her to places she would have never thought existed, and it was quite a miracle she had lived those three years of intensive break-outs without any kind of problems.

All those childish fantasies, of course, should have had a cause. Maybe had the first flight been nothing but the urge of a child, but after, what happened after?

She forgot little by little that scene in the snow, her little tabi socks moist with the melting snow, her geta lying by her knees, and that soft, warm hand taking her and helping her up. Those strong arms bringing her back to her source. That deep, yet young voice.

"Oi, Itachi, who's that child you are holding?"

Everything forgotten, to the last detail. Nothing remaining behind.


End file.
